WesWorld

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Friday, 9 September 1949

It was well afternoon when the signal station acknowledged the arrival of the store carriers Cunewalde and Fürstenwalde; former Hansa-type freighters they had served the Kriegsmarine faithfully over the last half-decade, hauling supplies between naval bases in the Baltic and the North Sea, or, occasionally carrying out resupply missions to the orient in support of the East Asia Squadron. Their appearance at Swinemünde struck no one as out of the ordinary.

Neither did it strike the casual observer as unusual that shortly after their arrival they discharged a considerable amount of construction equipment and supplies – which the dock personnel of the Versorgungsbetrieb training organisation took charge of warehousing against future needs. What might an informed observer might have noticed was the care taken to keep equipment and supplies in unit sets – Einheitensätze. After she finished discharging two days later the Cunewalde departed, while the Fürstenwalde remained.

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Thursday, 15 September 1949

It was not every day that a vize-admiral visited the port of Swinemünde and the word of the impending visit of Vize-admiral Becker had put the entire station in a tumult of preparation. The last week been spent in anxious preparation for an inspection – preparation that had been complicated by news that a battalion of construction troops was to be sent there before the end of the month. Already Nissenhütte were being erected to house the thousand or more troops that were now to be added to the already crowded facility. Fregattenkapitän Wulle, chief of staff to Konteradmiral Glaser had arrived the day before to assure that all that could be done for preparation had been done. He was dismayed by how much remained.

Becker himself arrived the following afternoon in company with Glaser; and still there were crews at work all over the naval station. Wulle anticipated the worst.


To his immense relief Wulle discovered that Admiral Becker was satisfied, rather than displeased, at the continuing labours of the sailors working under the gaze of senior officers.

“If they can to their tasks well and efficiently during an inspection, perhaps they can do equally well under enemy fire.” Wulle was not completely certain that Becker was entirely joking.

Becker showed particular interest in the training facilities for cargo handling that had been constructed at considerable cost. The lessons learned here had already been passed along to many of the larger ships assigned to his command, but he was well aware that more would pass through the Schauermannsschule, where crews would learn the lessons of efficient cargo handling and combat loading.

Fliegerhorst Krössinsee-Schönfeld, Saturday, 17 September 1949

Marinefliegergruppe 71 had transferred from its temporary base at Pillau and was now concentrated at the Marineflieger’s own air station at Krössinsee-Schönfeld. Here, alongside the instructional units of Angriffflieger Waffenschule 3 Nowotny could set the final edge on his pilots and aircrew before they deployed on their ship. The Westfalen was due to complete its operational training in a week’s time, and in five Marinefliegergruppe 71 would formally go aboard her for final ‘graduation’ exercises. Nowotny itched at the prospect of returning to what he saw as the ‘real’ Kriegsmarine, even if he was playing a supporting role.

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Tuesday, 20 September 1949

Korvettenkapitän Peter Frankenburg was on the bridge of the crane ship Siebengebirge as the harbour pilot conned her into the naval base. He had brought her here in company with Korvettenkapitän Wendisch’s Cunewalde, which was carrying stores and equipment for the burgeoning facility. Tugs warped the Siebengebirge alongside one of the piers that jutted seaward from the port’s main cargo handling area, and after his ship was securely tied up, the Cunewalde was guided into place outboard of the larger ship.

An hour later the cranes aboard the Siebengebirge began to move, swinging first in the direction of the heavy-laden Cunewalde, lifting cargo and then swinging shore-ward to deposit it on the pier, either across the Siebengebirge’s own deck or the open water beyond her stem. It was the mission she was designed for, and the training schedule Frankenburg had been handed left no time to waste.

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Saturday, 24 September 1949

As naval attaché Konstantin Khrenov visited many of Germany’s naval bases, particularly in the two years since the initiation of the joint exercise and training programme that saw Russian Federation naval units regularly exercising with their Kriegsmarine counterparts. However, today was the first opportunity he had to visit the naval facility at Swinemünde. He had heard numerous accounts of his hosts’ activity there, and, following some urging from St. Petersburg, an invitation had been given to permit him to assess the situation for himself.

The approach vector of the air transport that bore him hence took him directly above a portion of the base, known to his hosts as the Schauermannsschule – Stividornaya shkola – a locale for logistics training. While several larger ships were berthed in the outer harbour in the inner anchorage he was struck by the number of smaller craft tied up at the wharves and the very new barracks blocks – some of which were still under construction.

The kommandant of the base graciously provided an all-encompassing tour of the station, during which Khrenov learned that besides training crews for the rapid loading and unloading of ships the Stevedore School was also involved in development of new equipment for moving equipment from ship to shore. He had seen and heard of the varied used to which the Kriegsmarine would put its extremely useful modular pontoons; here he was shown two different designs of powered ferries that were undergoing tests.

He observed the recently formed Marine-Bau-Abteilung 314 engaged in training exercises. This unit, he was informed, was intended to participate in ship-to-shore movement, operating such equipment as amphibious trucks and pontoons, as part of the newly formed Einzatzgruppe 71.5. On this occasion the bau-abteilung was practicing its craft together with the crews of several ships, including the impressive-looking auxiliary Siebengebirge – and merchantman outfitted with several large cranes each capable of handling heavy loads.

His overall impression was one of deliberate effort to train all elements present in the need for coordination to move needed supplies from the ships afloat to units ashore, and vice versa. His host were happy enough to supply him with a draft of the most recent manual drawn up to cover these aspects of naval warfare, a document to which he would give much study upon his return to Berlin.

Insterburg, East Prussia, Tuesday, 27 September 1949

The train from Königsberg pulled into the station and Frenchman gathered up his things in preparation of detraining. Commandant Robert Galley was still somewhat mystified by the decision of the General Léchères to send an officer to the forests of Germany ‘to observe and learn’. His official orders had detached him to Schnelleinsetzbare Schwere Betriebsreparaturgeschwader 22 to serve as a liaison officer, which, he had been informed, was undergoing formation and basic training near the garrison town of Insterburg. He was to report to an Oberstleutnant Rall.

“Commandant Gallery!”

He heard a voice calling to him over the din of the platform and saw a German officer striding in his direction. “Oberstleutnant Günther Rall at your disposal. Welcome to Insterburg. Have you retrieved your luggage?”

“No, not yet. I…”

Rall turned to the NCO at his side. “Retrieve the Commandant’s luggage from the van and have it brought to the car.” Turning back to Gallery, he continued. “I hope your trip was not too tiring. Given the late hour, formalities can wait until tomorrow but I hope that you will find the officer’s mess acceptable for this evening.”

Rall’s briskness surprised the Frenchman, who nevertheless appreciated the fabled efficiency and thoroughness of the German military. In but a few moments he found himself ensconced in a comfortable Opel sedan riding through the forests that fringed the town. As they drove Rall began explain why Gallery had been seconded.

“Schnelleinsetzbare Schwere Betriebsreparaturgeschwader 22 is the newest of the Luftwaffe’s airfield construction formations, one with expanded capabilities. It is my understanding that you have had experience in the rapid construction of airfields in forward areas.”

Gallery nodded. “To some degree… my last assignment took me to Africa supporting our counter-insurgency operations there.”

“Yes, you, and Podpolkovnik Savitsky, your Russian counterpart, have more actual knowledge of what must be done. Our studies and plans can take us only so far – there will always be facets of the challenges that go unanticipated. I hope that you both can help us narrow the gap between theory and practice.”

Gallery was somewhat surprised by the news that a Russian officer would be serving alongside him in a similar capacity, but he could understand Rall’s logic. The Germans had never undertaken significant operations abroad since the end of the Great War, and as good as historical studies might be, tapping the well of actual experience made sense. While not common knowledge, Gallery had heard that in the run-up to the confrontation with China over le Banc Macclesfield the Russians had requested the deployment of Luftwaffe construction units to Siberia to aid in the redeployment of units to the zone of operations. Rall continued...

“Rapid Deployable Heavy Operational Repair Squadron 22 will be the first of its kind for the Luftwaffe, with sufficient organic resources in manpower and equipment to survey, lay out, construct, and have operational an airfield within five days of the arrival of the leading elements. Accomplishing that goal will require significant pre-planning and tailoring of all unit assets. I believe your experience will be invaluable.”

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Sunday, 2 October 1949

Korvettenkapitän Warzecha was happy to receive the orders that directed the Bottsand to leave the Baltic and join the Atlantikflotte. Admittedly, he was surprised that Emden was the port to which the ship was directed; he expected that the major fleet bases – Wilhelmshaven or Cuxhaven – would have been the likelier choices. Of course, with all the new ships that had passed through the Lehrdivision to the fleet perhaps there was no room left elsewhere. The Eversand would be in company – this was not surprising – she had completed her operational training some days ago. Before their departure though there was much to be done – stores to be laden, last-minute equipment requisitions to be filled, and bunkers to be topped off.

Marinestützpunkt Swinemünde, Sunday, 9 October 1949

The crane ship Siebengebirge had finished her initial operational training and was cleared to deploy to her next station, which rumour had as being Emden. With her went a detachment of Marine-Bau-Abteilung 314, the stevedores who would handle cargo transferred from the Siebengebirge herself or from other vessels to the shore. Stores filled her holds and a number of the ubiquitous pontoons were stowed on her deck. What her mission might be was anyone’s guess – though the general consensus was more training.

Berlin, The Russian Federation Embassy, Friday, 14 October 1949

Rarely had Pavel Kozyukhin had need to travel to the German capital, despite the length of time his destroyer flotilla had been assigned to Operation Pionier. Khrenov, the naval attaché, more commonly visited the Thirteenth Destroyer Flotilla, or they met at one of the German naval stations along the Baltic. The request that he travel to Berlin suggested that something was in the wind. After the obligatory pleasantries over tea Khrenov got down to business.

“I have news – and wished to deliver it in person. I fear you will have to give up your current command in the near future.”

Kozyukhin sat impassively; the move was not unexpected. He and his ships had served in their current assignment for two very-fruitful years. “Indeed sir.”

“The naval staff wants you back at Kronstat in order to pick your brain and get your assessment of the lessons you have learned in working alongside our allies. The ones you could be reluctant to commit to paper. And no doubt they will have a flurry of questions you have not even thought of. After that, you will be sent to the advanced special officers' course.”

This news came as a great surprise to Kozyukhin. That was a recognised prerequisite for flag rank. “Thank you sir. I am honoured.”

Khrenov chuckled. “Yes, you are. You will not be departing for about another month, so you will have time to make arrangements with Admiral Glaser and prepare your executive officer for the transition.” Kozyukhin, anticipating further instructions, merely nodded and listened.

“Captain Voznesensky will take command of the Pylkiy until your successor takes command; Yevgeniy Pervachev – he is completing an assignment in the Black Sea and will not arrive until January. I believe you two know each other.”

“The Black Cat of Tallinn? Our paths have crossed. He is a good commander and an honourable man.”

“In the interim Counter Admiral Ustinov will take charge of the 13th Destroyer Flotilla.”

This revelation surprised Kozyukhin. “Isn’t he the deputy commander of the Pacific Fleet?”

“That was his last assignment. I presume that the naval staff has selected him to assess Pionier due to his extensive experience in dealing with our allies on the other side of the world. Technically, he is senior to Admiral Glaser, but his remit will be limited to the 13th Flotilla. When you brief Glaser on these changes, please make that clear to him.”

“I shall sir.”

Insterburg, East Prussia, Monday, 17 October 1949

Podpolkovnik Yevgeny Savitsky had been with Schnelleinsetzbare Schwere Betriebsreparaturgeschwader 22 little more than a month, and if he had learned anything it was that his German hosts were thorough. He had worked on construction tasks in Siberia, in the Caucasus, and the steppes of Central Asia, and never had he seen a much mechanised equipment in use as here in the forests of East Prussia. The personnel of the unit were no mere labourers – all were secondary school graduates, some with engineering education – and if a task could be mechanised, the Germans seemed capable of producing a machine to do it. His notebook – which he kept in his uniform pocket all the time – was filled with impressions.

There were his observations on the steel planking that the Luftwaffe used to rapidly lay down a hard surface for the take-off and landing of large aircraft – not only were these used in their intended role but the German construction troops used them in many unintended applications – like reinforcing temporary retaining walls. The rolls of matting that were used to form rough roadways he had heard of before arriving in Insterburg – they were of naval origin he understood. What truly impressed him were the quick connect/quick disconnect couplings used to rapidly lay down fuel lines and establish fuel dumps.

Berlin, The Admiralstab, Wednesday, 19 October 1949

Vize-admiral August Becker re-read the memorandum delivered to his office that morning with great satisfaction. Penned by Khrenov, the Russian naval attaché, it proposed that a German contingent join their allies in a small landing exercise in the upper Baltic scheduled for early November. While the Russians played their cards close to the vest it was clear that like the Kriegsmarine the Russian Federation Navy was strengthening its amphibious forces. The proposal indicated that the exercise would take place near Pärnu – Pernau in the old days – in Pärnu Bay, an arm of the Gulf of Riga.

Becker allowed himself a small smile at the irony. As a young midshipman he had received his baptism of fire during Unternehmen Albion – the series of amphibious landings that had brought the war to the doorstep of St. Petersburg itself – in these waters. The undertaking, though successful, had been improvised throughout. His resources were far better now.

He summoned his staff and put them to work preparing a detailed plan and preparing drafts of the necessary orders, while he himself called on the Chief of Naval Operations to obtain the necessary approvals.

Berlin, The Russian Federation Embassy, Friday, 21 October 1949

Khrenov received the positive response to the Russian Federation Navy’s invitation to a joint amphibious exercise as expected, and had forwarded it to Petrograd, where wheels would be set in motion. That it was accepted was not a surprise at all. When observing a joint amphibious exercise earlier in the year Khrenov had learned about Unternehmen Albion, the successful German landings to capture the Moonsund archipelago islands of Saaremaa, Hiiumaa, and Muhumaa. He had since made the effort to learn more about this operation, filling in an important gap in his knowledge.

Conceived by the Imperial German naval staff as a rather desperate attempt to turn the flank of the Tsarist armies Unternehmen Albion had succeeded all too well, taking advantage of the war-weariness of the Russian people and the abdication of the Tsar to convince Russia to leave the Great War. Not that its success had brought Germany ultimate victory. Sifting through papers in the library of the Petrograd Nakhimov School he had found a few studies that had examined the operation. It was described therein as a classic economy of force operation – one to which little more than a division had been committed to – which had paid considerable dividends.

He had also discovered that as a very junior officer Admiral Becker had participated in Unternehmen Albion and the subsequent Battle of Moon Sound.

Quoted from "BruceDuncan"

Conceived by the Imperial German naval staff as a rather desperate attempt to turn the flank of the Tsarist armies Unternehmen Albion had succeeded all too well, taking advantage of the war-weariness of the Russian people and the abdication of the Tsar to convince Russia to leave the Great War.

OOC:

Here in WWTL, I wouldn't attach as much importance to Operation Albion. Russia certainly does not view it as a decisive battle, but rather as a largely symbolic attempt to grab territory in preparation for the negotiating table - which was only partially successful, as by the time both sides got to negotiations, Germany's situation was so much worse that Russia managed to get it back with a bit of careful negotiation and horse-swapping.

Of course, memory of Albion did drive much of the massive Russian development efforts for amphibious warfare in the 1920s and 1930s, even if the battle itself wasn't all that consequential to anyone besides the locals and the Germans.

Oddly, neither Operation Albion nor the Battle of Moonsund were ever incorporated into The Great War timeline. I vaguely recall leaving the Battle of Moonsund off intentionally, but I probably overlooked Operation Albion altogether. I'll fix it later.

Coastal Escort Alpenföhn, Kiel, Sunday, 23 October 1949

Leutnant zur See Werner Schattmann checked the ship’s log to confirm his memory – it had been little more than two months since the Alpenföhn had left the Baltic for her assignment in the North Sea – now she was returning, along with her sister Höllentäler, with orders to convoy a group of assault craft to Pillau. It was the role for which his ship had been designed and built, and he had been given to understand that another in the series of amphibious exercises that the Kriegsmarine was holding was in the offing. They would be departing on the tide, and their orders indicated “Expedite Movement”.

Coastal Escort Alpenföhn, Pillau, Friday, 28 October 1949

Arriving in Pillau Schattmann had received answers to some of his questions. A joint exercise with the Russians was in the offing, and his ship, together with others, would be taking part. The final briefing was planned for tomorrow, with departure to follow immediately. Already the landing troops scheduled to participate were mustering on the quayside with their vehicles and equipment.


Air Defence Cruiser Temesvar, Warnemünde, Saturday, 29 October 1949

Captain First Rank Kozyukhin accompanied the Kriegsmarine delegation on their inspection tour for the last time. In company with Konteradmiral Glaser, Fregattenkapitän Wulle, and a number of officers of the Lehrdivision staff he had participated in the ‘graduation exercises’ for the Temesvar and her sister Szina. The assessment of the ships was but a formality – after six months of extensive training any shortcomings would have been exposed and dealt with long ago. The keynote of Glaser’s remarks to the officers and crew of each vessel were positive, reminding of the destiny awaiting them in the growing Atlantikflotte.

This brought to mind Kozyukhin’s own change in fortune. After two years’ participation in Pionier he would be giving up command of the Thirteenth Destroyer Flotilla for a shore assignment that usually heralded advancement to flag rank. They were good years. For a brief moment he permitted his thoughts to wander…

Glaser concluded his speech to the crew of the Temesvar. There were three cheers followed by music. The ceremony was over. Momentarily Kozyukhin was distracted by the flurry of signal flags being run up the ship’s halyards… “All Captains?”

Admiral Glaser turned and stretched out his hand. “Kozyukhin… I hope that you will not find it amiss if I ask you to join us in the Temesvar’s wardroom. Luncheon has been prepared in your honour. The Lehrdivision will certainly miss your presence.”

“Thank you sir.”

Large Landing Craft Stepan Novikov, Irbe Strait, Tuesday, 1 November 1949

The briefing room of the Novikov was filled to the brim with officers – mostly those of the 153rd Naval Infantry Brigade but also a sprinkling of their allies from the Kriegsmarine who would be participating in Exercise Concert. As he took the podium Captain First Rank Ilya Korotayev, the amphibious flotilla commodore, actually breathed a sigh of relief – this briefing would be the last before the operation began, and its objective was to assure that all participants understood their part in the forthcoming series of operations. Within hours Pernau Bay would be so filled with ships that could be no misunderstandings or otherwise serious consequences could ensue.

“Gentlemen, be seated.” Korotayev’s pause was punctuated by the scraping of chairs on the metal deck.

“As you know, Exercise Concert will get under way at nightfall, when the joint landing flotillas will pass the Irbe Strait and take up their positions in Pernau Bay. Tomorrow at dawn General Shokalsky’s naval infantry will land on the beaches below the village of Reiu and advance inland to secure the Raekula Forest and the bridge over the river Reiu where it joins the Parnu River clearing the way for a crossing of the Parnu River and a simulated advance by mechanised forces along the main road to Pernau. At the same time our allies of Marine-Schützen Brigade 3 will land on the offshore island of Sangelaid to secure it as a base for further operations in the second phase of the exercise.”

“It is vital that you are precise in your navigation. Light minesweepers of the 1st Mine Warfare Flotilla will lead the advance and take station off the designated landing beaches and provide beacons per the plan before you. The bulk of Captain Alexandrov’s supporting force will follow.”

The Novikov was scheduled to land his Transall amphibians in the first wave, giving the naval infantry aboard them a head-start towards reaching their objectives inland. They would be supported by tanks carried by the new Volfram class medium landing ships. Of course, there was no opposition ashore – there was no need to unduly discommode the locals – but doctrine called for immediate tank support. The rest of the brigade would follow in subsequent waves.

Coastal Escort Alpenföhn, Tuesday, 1 November 1949

Leutnant zur See Werner Schattmann checked his charts again, plotting the escort’s course northwest-ward into Pernau Bay. From the bridge he could see the beacon on Ruhnu Island and confirm his position. He duly thanked his Russian allies for maintaining normal navigational aids for the purposes of the exercise. The Seetakt plot showed that the landing craft Alpenföhn and Höllentäler were accompanying were keeping good station as the lead element of the assault force – four Nordstrand infantry landing ships and a trio of marinefährprahm, due to land four hundred men of Marine-Schützen-Bataillon 307 with attached pioneers to secure a beachhead on Sangelaid Island, to be followed by the remainder of Marine-Schützen Brigade 3. Seetakt also showed that the second wave – four Kampenwerder assault landing craft and more marinefährprahm – were lagging somewhat behind – Schattmann had his signalman flash an order to keep better station. Those craft carried most of Marine-Bau-Abteilung 313 with its equipment – which would be vital in enabling the brigade to achieve its objectives.

Schattmann could not see most of the ships involved – he knew that to starboard the columns of the Russian amphibious vessels would be making their way through the bay to the south of Ruhnu. Further to seaward were the big transports of Einzatzgruppe 71.3, carrying the bulk of Marine-Schützen Brigade 3. They would not pass Ruhnu before dawn.

Large Landing Craft Stepan Novikov, Gulf of Parnu, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

Captain First Rank Korotayev maintained an outward air of confidence as the Novikov crept further towards shore, but within him boiled the concerns of what could go wrong, even in an exercise. Novikov’s captain had assigned a man to fathometer watch, and his reports indicated that the depth of water beneath the ship’s keel was steadily diminishing. To either side of the larger Novikov were spread out the other craft of the first assault wave.

“Ilya Valeryevich – how close do you expect to get to shore in this barge of yours?” Major General Shokalsky was trying to make light of the potential dangers in his normal phlegmatic fashion.

“Georgy Maximilianovich, you need not worry about getting your feet wet, so long as your driver can keep your Transall from broaching. Unless we strike a sandbar we should have a kilometre to go before debarkation.”

The Novikov suddenly lurched and Malenkov, his captain, ordered all stop. Korotayev instantly regretted his impolitic remark. Shokalsky merely shot him an ugly look but said nothing – such diversions would not help them overcome the unexpected setback.

“All engines back one quarter – let’s get us off the sand without any damage.”

Thankfully Novikov was not stuck, and damage control reported that he remained undamaged. Korotayev was duly thankful; Malenkov waited for the lookouts to inform him that the landing craft on Novikov’s immediate flanks were clear before changing course to port, where deeper water was indicated. Their progress towards the beach at Raeküla had not unduly upset their timetable. Malenkov would have to increase speed slightly to make up for lost time.

Ahead, on the eastern horizon, the sky was growing less dark with the approach of dawn.

Assault Landing Ship Kampenwerder, Gulf of Parnu, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

Bootsmann Kurt Biesalski could not make out the shore of the island ahead of them in the pre-dawn gloom. Sangelaid stood but a few meters above sea level, and the trees of its forest seemed to come all the way down to the shore – no sandy beach to give an indication where sea stopped and land began. He hoped that the officers on the bridge had a better view. Biesalski and his trio of companions from Bau-Abteilung 313 had the least enviable task of any participant in the exercise – riding the string of pontoons attached to the Kampenwerder to shore and then securing them.

“Cut them loose!” Above him an order rose above the din of the engines and Biesalski and his construction-men to axes to the hawsers that tied the pontoons to the Kampenwerder and they sailed shoreward while the ship itself struck the sand. This was something that had been practiced many times in training but the dangers were heightened by the darkness. As Biesalski’s string passed the bow of the Kampenwerder he could see that that port-side string was also floating into position under the direction of its riders.

The bow-ramp of the Kampenwerder opened between the two pontoon strings and Biesalski heard the diesel roar of a bulldozer come to life – it dropped off the end of the ship’s ramp and slowly crawled towards the island – half-submerged in the freezing waters of the Baltic. At least they would have mechanical help to secure the pontoons. For the moment Biesalski concentrated on throwing a line from the after end of his string to a waiting seaman on the Kampenwerder, and shifting that end of the string to meet up with the ship’s ramp.

“Easy now!” At last someone had switched on some red battle lanterns to give enough light to work by. The bulldozer was now ashore and out of their way so carefully Biesalski and his men jockeyed the pontoons into position and completed making the connections. The two strings now floated together – secure for the moment at the seaward end, but floating at the shore end – but not for long. Another group of construction-men rushed down the length of the causeway and set to beating down steel pilings to keep it from broaching.

Twenty minutes later the job was done, and the Strandmeister and his detachment moved ashore to take charge of the beach.

Red Beach Two, near Reiu, Wednesday, 2 November 1949

Major General Georgiy Shokalsky had not wasted time following up his assault troops ashore. Around him communications troops were erecting additional signal masts to supplement the radio equipment of his TB-42 infantry carrier. Somewhere he could hear the loud purring of a mobile generator – and he expected to have lights soon to permit him to better evaluate the present situation.

The reports coming from his front-line commanders indicated that Exercise Concert was going well. The TB-42s carrying the shock company had secured the northern exit from the beach and were moving forward along the road to Reiu, supported by T-45 tanks. The second and third waves were coming ashore – the rising sun making it easier for the coxswains of the craft to judge their landings.

Just then there was a crackle of radio traffic and one of the referees turned and handed him a message slip.

“Leading elements have been halted by improvised barricades – downed trees on road – twenty minutes delay imposed.”

Officially this was supposed to be an unopposed landing, and Shokalsky fumed at the temerity of the umpires in ‘interfering’ with his timetable. But it was only twenty minutes. He wondered who might be playing his opponents.

“My intelligence packed indicated that there were no defending troops in this area? Who created this barricade?”

The umpire who had handed him the report shrugged. “Fallen timbers in a forest road. It happens all the time from storms.”

The smile on the umpire’s face suggested that his answer was not completely truthful.

*****

Major Timo Vereshchagin had been given little more than a dozen Spetznaz troopers with which to play the enemy opposing the entire 153rd Naval Infantry Brigade – and such disparity of numbers meant that he could only try to delay its advance towards its objectives. They were also limited to the destruction they might cause for fear of upsetting a local population that was already upset with a troop exercise on its doorstep. So he had instructed his men to down trees at intervals and reset road signs to at least force the naval infantry to walk and perhaps become lost in the thick forest.

*****

Shokalsky swore at the chief umpire. His leading elements had encountered downed trees at hundred metre intervals, forcing them to spend precious time to clear each in succession. “These delays are insufferable. Every time we encounter one of these barricades you impose another delay on my troops. Why?”

“Your motorised troops are advancing through heavy forest on narrow roads – tracks in fact. For the moment they are road bound.”

“Then we shall see about that!” Shokalsky ordered the shock company to dismount from its infantry carriers and advance on foot, clearing any barricades in their path. He ordered the company commander to reach the main Reiu road within the hour.